


the Magpie and the wolf

by Airie



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Longing, Retrospective, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airie/pseuds/Airie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows "I Am a Lady".<br/>I wanted to write a positive, mature love story about how shut-in Caye got it across Farkas' thick skull she wans him. Beware the fluff.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mating Dance

Although Caye was cautious with others, she instantly liked Dinya Balu. The priestess of Mara was kind, soft spoken and loving. And aside from her enchanting personality, she had the same strange condition as Caye. Namely, her eyes were completely black, there was no way of distinguishing where the iris and pupil were, as the entire eyeball was an even, glossy black orb. Perhaps that was the reason for the two Dunmer women to treat each other with something more than courtesy. And yet, neither of them ever mentioned this strange similarity.

“I am happy to inform you I helped the undead lovers at Gjukar’s Monument.” The adventurer reported as she entered the temple of Mara in Riften.

“Her Benevolence smiles upon your efforts, my child” Dinya replied with a hearty smile. She finished her prayer, and gestured the other elf to sit at her side.

“I am always glad to assist.” Caye added mechanically, as she joined her on the bench. “But I should be on my way. If the need for my further services ever arises, do not hesitate to inform me” she excused herself, attempting to return the amulet she previously received to assist in her task.

“Please” the priestess put her hands over Caye’s, gently refusing to accept the trinket back. “I think you should keep the amulet.”

“I do not wish to fuss.” Caye dismissed politely. She wasn’t a healer, the Restoration bonus the amulet provided was of no use for her. As for its other use…

“Do it as a favor for me. I think Her Benevolence would like you to have it, after all you done for her cause.” Dinya said, peering into her eyes. Caye had no idea what was the priestess’ secret. How did Dinya manage to look so mildly and friendly with those eyes? Caye herself was over a century old. A century and three years, to be exact. And in all those years, after meeting myriads of people, changing her identity more than a dozen of times, she never mastered the art of making her gaze unintimidating. Over time, she took her eerie eyes to her advantage. But she understood well, that sometimes mild persuasion was far more profitable than intimidation. Perhaps it was not a matter of skill but personality?

“Thank you. I will always remember you by when I look upon it.” She said, accepting the trinket back.

“Before you go, little Magpie…” Dinya halted, when the adventurer was about to get up and leave. “There is something I’d like to share with you.”

“Oh…? Forgive me if I do not understand, sera, I’m not a soothsayer.” Caye said, making no mention of what Dinya called her. Her name meant ‘magpie’ in an old Dunmer dialect. 

“Whilst I was praying for your safe return I had a vision.” Dinya revealed, as her gaze shifted somewhere beyond the mortal plane. “I saw a wolf sleeping in a glade in the woods. Its fur was dark, almost black. It was the biggest beast I had ever seen in both my visions and life.” 

“I do hope you never come across such a beast, my lady” Caye interjected politely.

“Yet it looked so calm” Dinya continued. “It was peaceful and relaxed in the afternoon sun. Then, from the treetops, flew a magpie. It landed on the wolf’s back and rested in its fur. The wolf awoke, turned its massive head and saw the magpie. It sniffed the bird and then went back to sleep. So did the magpie.” She concluded. For a moment there was silence. “I have a feeling the vision was about you and someone. Please” she bid, gently pulling her arm over Caye’s shoulder, the adventurer stiffened over this sudden gesture, as she wasn’t comfortable with anyone displaying affection towards her. “Do not tell me if this vision is true or not. I am only to tell you what Mara revealed to me in her wisdom. The rest is up to you. Now, I shouldn’t keep you, I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.” She said, releasing the adventurer.

“Thank you.” Caye said as calmly as she could, still feeling the priestess’ arm on her shoulders. “I can’t say whether your vision is true or not. Regardless, I am thankful you shared it with me.” She bowed and turned to exit the temple.

“I firmly believe that even a powerful mage such as yourself has a heart, Magpie.” Dinya called after her. “Your armor is sturdy, but you…” the rest of her words were cut off by the heavy wooden doors Caye shut behind her with relief. She suddenly felt uncomfortable, and that was a rare thing for her. She was the master of her thoughts and feelings. Yet, Dinya managed to reach past her thick shell of manners and facades to reach… What? Longing? Nonsense!

_“Mage… right.”_ She thought to herself. She was often mistaken for a mage. Perhaps because of her race, but she believed it was mostly because of her educated looks and way of behaving. Her love of robes and Destruction magic also might have had something to do with the assumption. Truth be told, she was a spy and a thief. And a damned good one, no lock was safe from her little agile hands. The shadows were like a second skin to her. If a need arose, she could lie and scheme her way out of nearly anything. And if she was forced to employ violence, she would wreck havoc with a sword in one hand, and a charged lightning bolt in the other.

She was often considered cold and distant, and she had no problems with that. But she would never allow herself to be perceived as arrogant, no. Being arrogant would cause enemies, people would start looking closer into her. That would be… dangerous. Thus, she always remained polite, never boasted, never complained, always preferred to listen instead of talking. And somehow she slipped by, managing not to arouse anyone’s suspicion.

“My word lass, is that…? Don’t tell me you robbed the temple of Mara!” She heard a voice.

“Brynjolf. In the most inconvenient of times” she sighed. The thief was casually leaning against one of the stalls in the market district. He was dressed in clothes fit for a wealthy merchant which meant he wasn’t on official Guild business. “Is there something you need me for, or are you just in a mood for a chat?”

“Oh, I was just out for a stroll, and then I notice you storming out of the temple. With what I could only recognize as the Amulet of Mara clutched in your fist.”

“By the Gods, Brynjolf, I’m a professional, not a kleptomaniac. Why would I steal something useless to me?” She asked, hiding the amulet in her pocket. Was she storming out? And how could she forget to hide the damned thing from any nosy noses?

“Why do you look so frazzled, then?” He asked, widening his smug grin.

“Mayhap I was in a rush to present myself to you wearing it over my neck?” She suggested with a barely noticeable smirk. She had to admit it, she enjoyed his company. Brynjolf was intelligent, charming and charismatic. Just the kind of person she liked to exercise her mind on. Yet, he was a rogue. Charming, but still a scoundrel.

“Oh my…” he whispered, taking her hands into his. The gesture was dramatic and theatrical, thus it hadn’t made her uncomfortable in the slightest bit. “You are such a lovely lass… Now, if you were a lad, I would be on my knees this instant.” He confessed with a pained, untrue sigh.

“You say the nicest things.” The Dunmer replied. It was no surprise for her the rogue preferred men. He was too… perfect a mate to be straight.

“Right” he said, releasing her. “Is there someone particular on your mind, lass?” He asked jokingly.

“Brynjolf, really.” Caye dismissed his curiosity. “Can you imagine me in a wedding wreath?”

“It’s like hearing Vex when she’s drunk” the thief rubbed his temples. “Why do all female thieves I know renounce any feelings? Does Nocturnal require your hearts in exchange for providence?” 

“Perhaps aloofness comes with the trade?” She suggested. The damned amulet! She had bad feelings about it. She should hide it first thing she does when she returns to her current residence. 

“Perhaps” he agreed, brushing his red hair of his face. “Thankfully, women aren’t my problem. Now, I want to ask you a little favor.” He said confidentially, leaning towards her.

“I’m listening” she said graciously. She should have known he’d want something. Dealing with anyone from the Guild meant eventually getting down to business. And Brynjolf did recruit her and believed in her skills. She was his investment, and she paid off with interest. It was her obligation to return the favor.

“I need you to go and have a little chat with Mjoll the Lioness, huge woman that tone” he said, with a barely noticeable shrug. “She’s looking into Sapphire’s activity here in Riften. She has as much subtlety as a mammoth…”

“Mjoll or Sapphire?”

“You can crack a better joke than that, little one” he scolded mildly. “But Mjoll is bad for business. From what I heard, you got on her good side. Returned a sword, was it? Nevermind. I want you to… ‘bump’ into her and talk your talk. And when you do, I want you to mention Haelga has some suspicious crates in the basement of her bunkhouse. The rest should play itself.”

“Haelga?” Caye purred with a wide smile that made her stern face even more sinister. “This will be a pleasure.”

“You might say I was saving this job specially for you, lass.” Brynjolf chuckled as little golden spots in his eyes glimmered.

\---

Manipulating Mjoll was so easy that for a second Caye felt offended Brynjolf couldn’t do it himself. The self-proclaimed protector of Riften jumped into action immediately after the Dunmer was done talking. She rushed to Haelga’s bunkhouse accompanied by her shadow, Aerin. Caye had nothing against the Lioness, but business was business. And a part of her loved to deceive and lie. It was the same part that loved to make her sink her hand into people’s pockets and slip into their houses in the middle of the night. She didn’t consider herself to be either a good or bad sort. Truth be told, she didn’t believe in such trivial labels. But she could never resist the rush she felt when she was up to no good.

It was best she immediately left Riften after playing a little trick on Mjoll and Haelga. She decided it was high time to return to her current home, Whiterun. She hiked north-east, feeling the amulet’s weight increasing with every step. She wanted to get rid of it as soon as she sets foot in Jorrvaskir. 

The journey was pleasant and peaceful. There were some bandits, but a good old fashioned fireball took care of them. She entered Whiterun in a relatively good mood, but tired. It was late in the evening, all she wanted was to get a hot bath, eat and sleep. She had some plans ahead. A number of bounties, one contract from the Jarl, a few favors she had to get done. She liked to stay occupied, too much time spent on leisure meant her thoughts would eventually focus on her past. On her life that was so brutally ended just a couple months ago. On her Mistress that was no more.

She passed the ornamented doors and entered the emptied mead hall. The familiar smell of food and the atmosphere of the main hall relaxed her. At first, she joined Skyrim’s oldest Fighters Guild to seek protection. Any Thalmor agents that would be sent after her would never seek her out in such an unfitting place. In time, she grew attached to the Companions, even if her combat skills were restricted to wielding swords and daggers.

“You’re back dearie!” Said Tilma, as she silently emerged from the shadows.

“Ah, Tilma!” Caye greeted the servant heartily and insincerely. Though a cook and cleaner, that woman… knew things. Her light step and the way she handled a kitchen knife suggested she wasn’t always the quiet, humble servant to the warriors. The Dunmer choose to be cautious around her. She might have arisen to the role of Harbinger, but she knew that there are some people who remain untouchable, even if they’re just wretched cleaners.

“How was your trip?” Tilma asked with a false smile.

“Good. Could you please prepare a bath for me? You needn’t heat the water, I’ll take care of it myself. And something plain to eat? I’m too famished to bother with anything fancy.” She pleaded, heading towards the warrior’s quarters. 

“Of course.” The elder woman bowed. She knew the Harbinger had suspicions about her person. She also knew the Dunmer would never bother to do anything about her. And that was why Tilma and Caye left each other alone, maintaining the charade of polite etiquette.

\---

Caye didn’t feel comfortable in Kodlak’s quarters. She still felt the previous Harbinger’s presence in the office and bedroom. And she missed him. The old warrior did something unthinkable; earned her love and trust. His death was a devastating blow to the whole organization. And it made her remember things. She remembered how her previous mentor died. And how she couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

She was thankful that the Harbinger wielded little real power. She wasn’t the material for a leader. Instead, she preferred the role of an advisor and most trusted agent. She needed someone to tell her what to do. She spend almost eighty years in servitude to Ulva, a Dark Elf Matriarch who took her in, trained and educated in exchange for blind, fanatical loyalty. Ulva… history remembered her as the Champion of Cyrodiil. To Caye she was the Mistress, the Lady… her goddess. The mother figure she never had.

She entered her quarters and kicked her boots off with relief. She took her jewelry off and placed in the display case next to the desk. Then, she undid her waterfall braids and ruffled her hair with her fingers. As with most Dunmer, her hair was straight and red, a source of pride and allure. Ulva’s hair was azure, a result of an Alteration spell gone awry… Caye always wanted to touch it. She never got the chance. 

A knock on the door snapped her to reality.

“It’s open!” She said, quickly emptying her pockets and putting the content on the desk. A soul gem, a ring she ‘borrowed’ from one arrogant noble, a few coins, the Amulet of Mara.

“Hey!” Farkas, her Shield-Brothers greeted her as he entered the room carrying a wooden washtub. “Tilma asked me to drag this here. ‘Cause you know, with her back, she can’t carry anything heavy.”

“Ah…” the Harbinger uttered, for a moment feeling a strange pang in her gut. “You’re just eager to please, Sera.” She added quickly, looking away.

“It’s no big deal. Had fun on your trip?” He asked, placing the tub on the floor. With a crack, he straightened his back.

“There were some bandits on my way back, if that is what you’re inquiring about.” She replied humbly. 

“Nice. Toasted them?”

“With little effort.” She assured, smiling politely. She felt odd around him. Strangely comfortable and yet uneasy. As if feeling guilty for playing her charade in front of him.

“Great, too bad I couldn’t see it.” He said with a feral grin. “You’re staying longer this time?” He inquired, looking around the room. Caye made little alterations, thus the room still bore Kodlak’s presence.

“Maybe for a day or two. There are some matters I have to attend to.”

“Need my help with anything?” He offered, focusing his eyes on her again. His irises were icy-gray. The dark war paint he and his brother used was supposed to intimidate foes. But behind the brutish appearance, Farkas was… alright. He was simple-minded, but kind and sincere. He was so different from her; intelligent, but devious, seldom remorseful. 

“Oh, no. I do not mean to cause a fuss.” She declined. Strangely, she didn’t want him to accompany her on some of her more… morally questionable endeavors. She didn’t want him to think little of her.

“Come on, talk plain with me.” He said, scratching himself on the neck. “You know I can’t make a word out of what you’re saying when you talk all fancy like.”

“My sincere apo…” Caye she shut her mouth, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent too much time minding my every word and now I find it strange to talk carefree.”

“You know I won’t judge. And even if you say something stupid I probably won’t notice.”

“You’re too harsh on yourself.” She comforted, patting him on the shoulder. The gesture came so natural for her, that she didn’t immediately recognize she did it on a whim, without first considering whether or not she should.

“Yeah, right. I should leave you, don’t want to spoil your bath.” He said, stepping backward.

“I’ll be thinking about you, if that’s of any consolidation.” She assured on a sudden impulse. When the sense of what she said got to her, she felt her muscles tense. This sort of behavior… she was flirting. Unacceptable!

“Right…” he muttered in disbelief.

“I’m ever so sorry. Really, if I offended you, sera…”

“Offended me? Come on, an elf girl will be thinking of me in her bath. I’m slow but not stupid. And you’re talking weird again.” He rebuffed, turning around. “I’ll see ya in the morning at breakfast?”

“It will be my pleasure. Se… Farkas?” She asked, suddenly remembering something.

“Yea?” He asked looking over his shoulder, as he halted in the doorframe, almost completely obstructing it with his bulk.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you.” She quickly crafted a simple lie. ”I came across a book on Skyrim’s history…

“Vilkas is the one you should talk to. He’s got a knack for history and books.”

“I want the answer right away” she lied with a smile she hoped wasn’t nervous. “There were mentions of lycanthropes in early Nord history. Do his and your names carry any significance?” She asked as naturally as she could. 

“Yep. Both mean ‘wolf’ in dead Nord dialects. Guess Jergen was in a good mood when he named us, huh?” 

“Indeed. Thank you and good night.” She bid him. As she watched him leave, she realized that his hair was so dark, that it was almost black.

\---

The food and water were delivered shortly. She ate and then undressed. The water in the tub was cold, but sinking her hand charged with a weak fire spell did the trick. She took a small bottle from the shelf and poured the content into the water. Arcadia sold some exquisite bathing mixtures at her store in the Plains District. Caye slid into the bubbling tub and allowed herself to relax.

She caught a glimpse of the amulet resting on the desk, mocking her. Her and marriage? Hah! But why not? She was still fertile, she could at least consider it. And she wasn’t that cold and detached, right? She was unsure of what to do or think. She still hadn’t learned to cope with complete freedom. Most of her life was spend in strict servitude, pleasing her Mistress in any way she could. On her own, she felt lost. And she was never good with handling emotions. But she refused to think of herself as completely alien to normal feelings and needs. She might find them foolish and struggle to control them, but she wasn’t heartless. 

She splashed her face, allowing the war paint to smudge and wash off. It was Aela’s idea to have her paint her face. Shortly after being given the Beast Blood, the Huntress used her own blood to mark Caye’s cheeks with two horizontal lines per each. Of course, she didn’t use blood afterwards, but the habit of painting lines on her cheeks stuck.

The elf washed her hair, allowing her thoughts to drift away. There were thoughts of her old life harassing her mind, but she restrained them. She wanted to think about her new life. The one that started when she left Cyrodiil. Ironically, her new life began when she was nearly executed…

_She kneeled before the chopping block. The blood of the previous prisoner hadn’t even had time to cool. She crinkled her nose in disgust, knowing her neck and cheek will rest on it, her skin meeting with the sticky blood of an unknown Nord rebel. She sighed. She made peace with death and was actually relieved when she realized the Imperials intended to execute her along with the rebels instead of imprisoning them._

_“Any last words, prisoner?” The Imperial Captain taunted. Stars and Moon, if Caye was in her full strength she would set that arrogant woman ablaze with a blink. But a bit of dignity was all she wanted to keep for herself in her final moments. She took a deep breath and turned to face the rest of the captured Stormcloaks. Her eerie eyes rested on the golden-haired Nord who talked to her in the carriage. Ralof was his name._

_“At least the weather is nice” she said calmly, her lips stretched in a faint smile. Casting aside the esthete in her, she bend forward to rest her head on the bloodied block._

_Then came a roar from the sky…_

A knock on the door interrupted her stream of memories.

“Your business will have to wait until morning. I’m unavailable for the rest of the evening!” She announced, reaching for the washcloth. 

“Should I kiss your arse as well?” The voice behind the door mocked.

“Come in!” She allowed, recognizing it was Aela. The Huntress boldly entered the Harbinger’s office.

“Well, look at you! Already making yourself at home!” Aela teased, resting her palms on the edge of the tub. The Dunmer gathered some foam to cover her cleavage.

“Either state your business or join me.”

“I can do both” Aela proposed. Caye wanted some privacy, but she was drawn to her Shield-Sister. She admired the Huntress for her independence and strong will. In return, Aela esteemed the elf’s resourcefulness and determination. And her respect for boundaries. They instantly accepted each other. But it was the Dunmer’s introduction to the Beast Blood and Skjor’s death that brought them close.

“Leave your gear on the chair and hop in.” Caye offered, making room in the tub.

Aela stripped with little effort and threw her armor along with her weapon on the chair next to the desk. Her keen eyes caught a glimpse of the trinket the Dark Elf left on the desk just earlier.

“Damn, is that the Amulet of…?”

“Please!” Caye pleaded, her voice was sharper than she intended. “Make no mention of that damned thing! I got it as a gift for doing a small service to the Temple in Riften and it’s already causing me trouble! I hadn’t even put it on yet!”

“So, you intend to wear it for someone?” Her Sister asked, pushing it on the surface of the desk.

“That’s very unlikely, but not entirely impossible.” The Harbinger said diplomatically. “Now come here before the water completely cools down.”

“Ah! Damn it, are you making stew as well?! It’s boiling!” Aela hissed as her slender foot slipped into the water.

“No one is forcing you to keep me company” Caye refuted. As Dark Elves were naturally resistant to fire, whilst Nords had an immunity to frost, agreeing on a temperature that would suit them both was a tough compromise. Aela slowly entered the tub, trying to adjust to the heat.

“You have no understanding for the ways of men” she grunted, as she submersed neck deep into the painfully hot bath.

“And you have a monobrow” Caye taunted. A second later she found herself surrounded by water, as the Huntress grabbed her by the head and pushed under the surface. She struggled and managed to bob up with a surprised cry. What she said was not entirely true. Aela had separate, though they were a bit bushy. Her green war paint covered that small embarrassing detail.

“You should be happy you’re my Harbinger, for I would drown you, little one!”

“Ah, I see you do possess some female vanity after all, my Sister.” The elf shuttered, coughing up lavender-scented water. Aela said nothing, but splashed her face to wash the green paint off. In the meantime, Caye scrubbed herself on the back with a bar of soap.

“It’s Farkas isn’t it?” The Huntress suddenly asked.

“You jest!” Caye dismissed laughing, without even flinching an eyelid. Intrigue and lies ran in her blood, and Aela wasn’t trained in the art of subterfuge. Yet, the Nord woman somehow sensed insincerity in her Harbinger’s voice. 

“Don’t lie to your Sister.” She warned, slinging her arm around the elf’s waist and pulling her closer. Their white and bluish-gray cleavages met. Aela looked straight into Caye’s void eyes. She was always so straightforward and strict. No half-measures, no white lies. Give me the truth or be gone!

“I don’t know” Caye said quietly, not turning her gaze away, “I’m not declaring anything until I think this over.”

“As with everything you do. Have you never acted on impulse?”

“Seldom. Planning is what I was always good at. Now, what gave you a clue I might be interested in him?” The little Dunmer asked sincerely curious.

“I’ve known the Ice-Brain ever since I first set foot in Jorrvaskir. He and his brother were the most annoying pair of whelps that lived in Whiterun, I can tell you that.” Aela revealed, laying back. “I remember Vilkas saying that girls are stupid and one had no business joining the Companions. Well, after giving him a bloody nose, he changed his mind” she continued her tale with a vindictive grin. “I reckon he was reluctant to let you in as well? Not that it was up to him to decide.”

“There were some qualms about my height and posture.” Caye admitted humbly. She was petite and unassuming, which was part of her act. But after showing Vilkas what she could do with dual swords, he changed his assumption of her.

“I knew the Twins before they grew their fist chin hairs. And even if Farkas doesn’t talk much, I have a way of knowing when something’s on his mind. He’s not the brightest sort, he takes time to think things over, but in the end he usually makes the right decision.”

“The querns of his mind grind thoroughly, but slowly?” Caye suggested.

“Exactly. I don’t know for sure, but something’s bothering him. It might as well be you. Though, I may be wrong, after the three of you…” Aela’s voice dropped an octave ”… got clean, I don’t think I can truly say I know what’s on your minds.”

“I’m sorry.” The elf whispered, pressing her cheek against Aela’s shoulder. “I never wanted you to think I betrayed you. It was your blood that I took only to reject it. But I couldn’t.” She confessed looking up to meet with the Huntress’ eyes. “I wasn’t in control of myself. And I had no desire to spend my afterlife in Hircine’s realm. I turned down the Beast Blood, but not you…!”

“Oh, will you stop your monologues!” Aela scolded, pinching Caye’s side. The elf shrugged, but was relieved that her Sister understood. “It’s your life and your conscience. If you want to be a whiny little milk-drinker, that’s your choice. Now scrub my back.” She ordered, releasing her and turning around.

“With pleasure.” She said politely, applying soap between Aela’s pronounced shoulder blades.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Think. Consider. Run scenarios in my head.”

“And after you’re done with that?”

“I…” Caye’s voice raised in pitch. “I have no idea. You might have noticed I’m not the warmest type. Trust was a commodity in my old life. I still think that even considering marriage for someone like me is plain insane.”

“Oh woe is you!” Aela mocked, looking over her shoulder. “What a tragic figure you are!”

“I need to make sure I’m not just entertaining the idea of matrimony.”

“Have you ever longed for someone?” Aela asked. Caye was surprised the solitary Huntress wanted to discuss such intimate things with her.

“My word sera, are we… having girl talk?” She asked surprised.

“Of course not!” Aela declined. “And even if you told anyone, they’d never believe you.” She jokingly gnashed her teeth. “And they’d never find your body, little one. Never.”

“Once.” Caye suddenly spoke out.

“What?”

“I had fallen for someone. Once.”

“And what happened?”

“I was rejected. Gently, but downright.” The elf confessed gravely. “It doesn’t matter now. That person is dead. Please don’t inquire further.”

“I won’t.” The unfamiliar miserable tone in Caye’s voice discouraged her Sister’s curiosity. “But you should put the amulet on if you make up your mind. Just to check what vibes it sends. And if anyone asks you can always make up a crafty little lie, right?” 

“That won’t be a problem. Now, about the business you wanted to discuss…”

“I have no business with you. I heard you were spoiling yourself with a lavish bath and decided to join in.” Aela confessed with a malicious grin. “I’d sooner be dead, than let anyone see me buying one of Arcadia’s bath mixtures. It’s much easier to just invite myself to your pamper sessions.”

“Next time we share the costs of the bath…” Caye insisted, getting out of the tub.

\---

Aela left shortly afterwards. The water was now barely tepid. Caye sighed, getting dressed in a plain linen nightshirt. She should forget it. She had no objections to friendship and loyalty, but more intimate relations were just too… complicated. Falling asleep and waking up with the same person every night and day, sharing hardships with them. Eventually thinking about children… She unknowingly pressed her hands to her belly. The clock was ticking. She was in the prime of fertility and conception was difficult between Mer, mating with men was much easier. She wouldn’t mind giving birth to half-elves. She would only hope her children would have normal red Dunmer eyes. Or bluish-gray, just like…

“Nonsense!” She muttered, bustling around the bedroom. She reached for the little gem on the shelf. One of the twenty four Stones of Barenziah. She now had a full set she could turn over to Vex. She knew about this last piece lying in Kodlak’s quarters for quite some time. Yet, out of respect, she decided to leave it until the Harbinger would pass away. She didn’t account for a sudden and violent death, though. Barenziah… she lived in Whiteerun for a while. And she had a Nord lover…

“What is wrong with me?” She hissed. She could muzzle her thoughts with little effort. But now, they rampaged through her head, flooding her with sensations and impressions she had no desire to experience. She felt like this before. And nothing good came out of it.

_They were staring at the sun setting over Anvil. Ulva was leaning over the balcony’s balustrade, Caye was faithfully waiting at her side. Ulva… She had the lightest skin. Powder blue, so unusual for a Dark Elf. The whites of her eyes were clear, irises bright red. And by the Gods, she had such grace. She was like a peacock compared to the little magpie she took in as her own._

_“You are more valuable to me than I would ever expect, my dear.” She said, patting her agent on the shoulder. Caye felt her touch burn her skin._

_“Your words mean a lot to me, my Lady” She replied calmly. She tried not to make her gaze ravenous. But that was how she recently felt around her Mistress. So… desperate for more. She scolded herself for such insubordination, forced to restrain her inappropriate desires. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t in control._

_“Yes, your loyalty is one of the few things that I can be absolutely sure of these days… Is there something wrong?” She asked, noticing the blush on her spy’s cheeks._

_“No, Mistress.” Caye lied, gathering up all her strength not to touch her. Ulva’s azure hair flew in the breeze. She wanted to touch it, sink her fingers in the silky tide. Smell it._

_“Did your last mission wear you out? I can afford to let you off duty for a couple of days.”_

_“That won’t be necessary.” She declined._

_“You could use some rest. Go out on the town. Meet with someone. Divines, you’re still so young, dearie…”_

_“I’m fifty six, Sera.”_

_“Why, you’re still a maiden! I’m sure there’s some tension you have to work out. You should spend some time with a nice boy or girl. Have I embarrassed you?” The Lady asked concerned, as her protégé looked away, fixing her eyes on the seagulls in the distance._

_“No.” She assured with difficulty._

_“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”_

_“I am sure.” She said as quietly as she could. How she suffered! She felt as if she was going to burst. But she would never allow herself to act like a foolish goose in front of her Mistress._

_“Alright, little one. I should get back to my papers. The Spy Matriarch’s work is never done.”_

_“Of course” the younger Elf agreed, unable to look her in the eye._

_“I bid you goodbye for today.”_

_“Goodbye.”_

_Silently, Ulva left Caye to her misery. Her burgundy finery swept the leaves off the marble floor as she got back to the house. Her scent was soon swallowed by the evening breeze. Caye clenched the balustrade, breathing deep and slow. This could not go on like this. But what should she do? Ulva took her from the streets, where she lived as a small time thief and gave her the best education and training money could buy. Then, she sent her into a world of conspiracy and plotted murder. And Caye delivered. Ulva was her life, her purpose. She loved her and was loyal to the death. But these sudden… tender feelings were wrong. How dare she claim a wretch such as herself could be loved back by someone as… perfect as Ulva?_

_“I can’t. I can’t hold back any longer.” She whispered as she turned around to do something spontaneous._

_“Yes, did something happen?” Her Lady asked, putting her papers aside. Her study was littered with books, documents and letters._

_“I…” Caye felt as if the air around her condensed. “I am not made out of stone, my… my Ulva.”_

_“Oh” Her Mistress immediately understood the reason behind her agent’s recent strange behavior. “I see.”_

_“I’m sorry.” The maiden’s voice was almost a cry. She hung her head, staring at her boots. Ulva slid her chair aside and walked up to her._

_“Little one…” she whispered, gently holding Caye’s chin up. The black eyes met with bright red. “You are the only being on Nirn I can honestly say I love.” She confessed bitterly._

_“But…” Caye knew there was an obstacle impossible to overcome._

_“But not in a way you’d want me to. You are the only good thing I brought into this world. I love you, my heart was always opened for you. The heart of a mother.”_

_Abruptly, Caye squirmed out of her beloved’s embrace. She turned her face to the door, her fists were tightly clenched. She acted on impulse… and was now paying for it. How could she act so foolish?! She wasn’t herself!_

_“Caye…” Ulva’s gentle voice called from behind. Caye knew that if Ulva puts her hand on her shoulder, she is going to scream until she loses her voice. She needed to get out of here. She needed to be alone. She wanted to be somewhere dark and quiet._

_“Forgive me.” She pleaded, as calmly as she could. She turned around, to face the one who gave her so much love and pain. “It was arrogant and selfish of me to think I can make any claims. Forgive my insolence.”_

_“Little one…” Ulva’s beautiful face frowned. Her features were so soft and gentle, unlike her servant’s stern, hawk-like face._

_“You will always have my ever dying loyalty. Love… love is overrated. I shall take my leave.”_

_“Caye!” Ulva called, as the maiden was about to leave. “Perhaps under different circumstances… Maybe when this damned war with the Dominion is over…”_

_“Please!” The black eyed Elf cried, completely losing control of her tone. “Do not torture me with false hope! I can’t stand it!”_

_She rushed out of the study and raced to her own quarters. There, she slammed the door and used a Muffle spell to separate herself from the rest of the world. And she screamed. She screamed until she felt her head pierced by pain and her throat sore. She threw herself on her cold, lonely bed and slipped into dreamless sleep._

_In the morning she went to accept another assignment from Ulva. Neither of them had ever mentioned the incident. As years went by, the embarrassing scene blurred and almost entirely evaporated from their minds. Several decades later Ulva sacrificed herself to buy Caye some time to escape as Aldmeri agents lay siege over their hiding place. She used one of the most powerful Destruction spells to kill herself and her attackers. Caye was left in the dark to pursue her fate north, in Skyrim. That was less than a year ago and the scars were still fresh._

Caye put the gem back on the shelf. She was surprised how many possibilities freedom offered. How many people she met and how many places she explored. How many new drives and feelings she discovered. She went back to the office to fetch the Amulet. It wasn’t as heavy in her hand as she remembered it. She pressed it to her chest.

“I am not made out of stone…” She whispered. She opened herself only once in her life and got burned. Now, she was on the verge of deciding whether or not to take the risk again. 

But maybe this was just a matter of primal attraction? She had to admit, Nords native to Skyrim possessed a certain gruff appeal. Perhaps she simply wanted to… fornicate with someone tall and brawny? Farkas had both characteristics. No, no, if this attraction was purely physical she would lust after his brother as well. And she had no desire to lay in bed with Vilkas. She was sure the feeling was mutual. And by Azura, his smell! She may have cured herself of lycanthropy, but her sense of smell remained sharp. Was it a matter of pheromones? When was the last time someone had touched her…? Too long. She hadn’t shared a bed with anyone for almost… a year? The strain she was holding back for so long hit her with unexpected momentum. She had the itch.

She decided to go to bed and relieve herself of the tension. Alone. Then she might focus enough to think clear.

\---

He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, with his arms folded behind his head. He could hear his brother’s steady breathing from the room opposite to his. Jorrvaskir was asleep. He couldn’t. There was something nagging him. An irritating feeling in the back of his head. He realized what it was when the Harbinger returned after being away for almost a month. He missed Caye’s company and was happy like a whelp to see her again. He wasn’t sure if that was good. The Elf was okay in his book. Maybe a bit uptight at first, but when he got to know her better she was alright. Strange, but okay. And once you got used to her creepy eyes she could pass up as pleasant to look at. 

She was so tiny, she barely reached to his shoulder. But she was fast with those little nimble hands. And she could twist like a contortionist. He once saw her stretching in the training yard. What that petite Elf could do with her spine and joints was damned impressive. 

He cleared his throat listening for the faintest sound. Vilkas stopped snoring. Peaceful, calm sleep was one of the good things that came with purity. Peace of mind and body was what a good warrior really needed. He noticed that after he got clean, he could think clearly without much effort. Before that, he took more time to gather his thoughts, as he was preoccupied with holding back his animal instincts. With those out of the way he was truly focused. Free. He was the master of himself.

_”Is everything alright?” Her small face hovered above him, the black empty eyes pierced into his skull._

_“Is it over?” He asked, trying to fight the numbness in his joints. He must have fallen over after battling the spectral wolf. The beast bore his best assets; it wasn’t fast, but strong and resistant to most of his attacks._

_“Yes. But are you alright?”_

_He rose up, trying to regain balance. He felt… relaxed. The tension and everyday stress he had to endure were all gone! The constant urge to hunt and to kill was gone as well!_

_“I’m… great.” He said surprised. “I can’t remember the last time I felt so good… Like relaxing with a mug of spiced mead.”_

_“I’m glad I made you feel good… better.” The Elf said calmly. The chill in her voice had suddenly softened. “I reckon you want to look around now. I should take my leave of you.”_

_“Sure. But hey!” He halted as she turned her back to him. “There’s one more thing…”_

_“Yes?” She asked giving no sign of impatience._

_“My brother… He’ll come around eventually. And when he does, you’re going to help him too, right?”_

_“Of course.” Caye agreed patiently._

_“He can be stubborn. And he won’t say it in your face. But he’ll need your help.”_

_“You’re the best brother Vilkas could hope for.” She said with a polite smile. “I will do anything in my power to assist him just as I assisted you.”_

_“Thanks. When you get back to Jorrvaskir the drinks are on me.”_

_“Sera, if you think I’m going to let you get me drunk again you must think very little of my self preservation instinct!” Caye laughed. “But I really must be going now.”_

He needed a drink if he wanted to get some sleep. He reached under the bed and groped to find the familiar shape of a bottle of mead. He retrieved it and indulged in the honey brew. He let his thoughts drift in any direction they wanted. He was in the mood to reminiscence in no particular order or chronology.

_“By the way, if you’re looking for something to do…” He said after showing the whelp around._

_“I’m all ears.” The little newcomer said with her weird gaze fixed on his face. She wore robes. Her only armor were boots and gloves of solid studded leather. Probably the quick, agile type. She used short swords and daggers, another clue she wasn’t a heavy hitter. He remembered her from Pelagia Farm, when she bumped on Aela, Ria and him fighting a Giant. Damned things, they usually stayed clear of settlements. The little one called lightning and softened the Giant for them._

_“We’ve gotten a letter that someone’s causing trouble here in Whterun hold. I don’t know what the fuss is all about, but I’d want you to take care of it. Go there, look tough and whip them into shape. But I don’t want to hear about a killing, understood?_

_“Of course.” She said in a polite, cold tone. “I’ll get it done.”_

He blew off a strand of hair off his face. She got back in less than an hour. Fresh and smelling like roses.

_“They promised to make up for their behavior.” She announced, suddenly appearing next to him, while he was laying back in the training yard.”_

_“Good work, Sister. And not a scratch! You must have knocked them of their feet with the first blow, eh?” He asked, handing her a small coinpurse as payment._

_“Please, Sera, I am no brute!” She declared almost offended._

_“So what, you talked them into taking care of it?” He asked with a bad feeling creeping up his spine. The newcomer sure was weird._

_“Yes.” She said calmly._

_He jumped off the chair he was sitting on. Damn it, that wasn’t the way they solved things! Leave the sweet talking to someone else, but not the Companions!_

_“Okay, you’ve asked for it.” He grunted, searching his memory. “Narzulbur, Orc stronghold. The Chief’s Forgewife is causing trouble. And don’t you dare come back without bruises!_

_“Of course.” She said, still in that calm, indifferent tone. “Should I bring back any grim souvenir as proof? An ear perhaps?” She tested his patience._

_“Get. To. It.” He said slowly, trying not to make it obvious how annoying she was._

He smiled, remembering how strange she seemed before he got to know her better. Over time, she became less eerie, but still strangely shut in.

_He reached for the switch releasing the trap. His hands slowly shifted back into normal, human hands. He snapped his jaws, as they morphed back into their everyday shape. The little newbie shouldn’t know their secret. But it was this or die. He went back to fetch her._

_She was already out of the small nook she was trapped in, and warded herself from him with a sword in one hand and a ball of fire in the other. Fire and fur didn’t go well together. She was calm, waiting for him to make the next move._

_“I hope I didn’t scare ya.” He said as less intimidating as he could._

_“Rather surprised. But it takes far more than a werewolf to curdle my blood.” The Dunmer replied. “Do you intend to harm me, Sera?”_

_“No.”_

_“That is good to hear.” She sheathed her weapon and canceled the spell. “I assume all higher ranking members share this trait?”_

_“Yep. It’s a blessing given to some of us. Makes us fearsome like wild beasts. Pretty useful.”_

_“Remarkable.” She sighed giving him a closer look. “I hope you do not intend to… introduce me to it?” She asked cautiously._

_“Only the Circle has the beast blood. Focus on proving your honor first.”_

_“I see little honor in…” she noticed his gaze “… As you say, Sera.” She quickly took her words back._

_“Good. Eyes on the prey, not the horizon. Come on, still the Draugr to worry about.”_

_“I’m sure of it.” She agreed. Her cold politeness was slowly starting to get on his nerves._

_\---_

_“This is it?” The newbie asked, examining the shard on the pedestal._

_“No doubt, it’s a fragment of Wuuthrad alright.” He agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow._

_Draugr, the Silver Hand, giant spiders… The first two he could handle, the latter… He felt an unpleasant tingle down his spine on the thought he’d have to face one again. Those eyes, and so many hairy legs. He shrugged, remembering venom dripping from those cursed fleshy mandibles. He’s going to have to get completely hammered if he wants to sleep peacefully tonight._

_“Sera…” her calm voice snapped him back into reality. “I believe we have matters to attend to.” She said, pointing at more Draugr clawing their way out of their resting places._

_“Less talking, more fighting, new blood!” He ordered, charging at the nearest undead. A sharp bolt of ice passed his head by mere inches and hit it right between the eyes. The undead fell to the ground with an impressive hole in its head._

_“Is this good enough?” She asked from behind him._

_He grinded a curse between his teeth and took a powerful swing, severing another approaching Draugh in half._

_\---_

_“I see you are more than skilled with a greatsword.” She made conversation as they were about to leave the tomb. In the dim light her eyes seemed like endless holes. He tried to avoid looking directly in her face, focusing on the gems adorning her circlet. She was creepy. And a smartass, even if she tried to hide it behind all those fancy words._

_“Vilkas and I were training ever since we learned to walk.” He answered briefly. He was slowly starting to get tired of her company. Just get back to Jorrvaskir, say the usual formula and get piss trunk to forget about those damned, leggy…_

_“What manner of sorcery is this!?” She called out, as they exited the ruin. She quickly used a spell to surround them with a protective circle._

_“What sorcery?” He asked, looking around with his hand reaching over his shoulder to the sword’s handle._

_“In the sky!” She cried, pointing at the bright blue and green blurs obstructing the stars._

_“Those? Northern lights.” He explained, not expecting her to be so ignorant. Guess the little elf wasn’t as smart as she thought._

_“I… Are those natural?” She inquired, dispelling the protective circle. The look on her face was priceless._

_“Yeah, nothing to worry about.” He said with a slowly emerging grin. This trip wasn’t so bad after all._

_“Oh… I see…” she concluded, looking away. “They doo look nice.” She added after a moment of walking in silence._

_“I like the orange and red ones better.” He said glancing at the quickly shifting blurs._

_“There are more colors?” She asked, staring into the sky. For a moment her stern face was almost amiable. “Wonderful.” She whispered._

_“You’re always like this?” He cut in, unintentionally raising his voice._

_“I’m sorry?”_

_“Do you always talk like you’re having high tea with the Emperor or something?” He went on, trying his best not to be an ass. Still, the way she talked was so… posed._

_“I’ve been trained in the art of fine speech.” She admitted, focusing those black glossy eyes on him. Now he realized why they made him so uncomfortable, they were exactly the same as Frostbite Spider’s eyes. Who would want to wake up every day with that gaze peering into them?!_

_“Uh-oh.” He muttered, increasing the pace._

_“Yes, I am an educated bitch, if that’s what you’re inquiring about.” She suddenly said, her tone was still measured and calm._

_“That’s not what I meant.” He dismissed uncaringly._

_She halted and turned to face him. She made one step towards him, her nose almost met with the middle of his chestplate, she was so short compared to him. She looked up, for the first time her little cruel face had some trace of emotions. She was pissed off._

_“You have every right to think little of me, I respect that. But the moment you’ll try to start something with me and then backpedal like a little girl, I’ll shock you like a fish caught by lightning.” She warned. “Now let’s get back, before you say something stupid and I’ll have to act unladylike.”_

_“Like what?” He asked after a moment of confusion. She had some feelings after all. And he hurt them like a kid teasing the new girl in the club. Great._

_“Like hitting you on the crotch with a fireball.” She promised gravely._

_“Sorry.” He said feeling stupid. Women were weird. Elves were weird. Elven women were from a completely different world._

_“Apology accepted.” She said graciously. “And no, I won’t apologize for my outburst. You deserved it.” She added sticking her little pointy tongue out. Guess she wasn’t as alien to normal reactions after all._

The bottle was now empty. He reached under the bed for another one, tossing the empty one into the basket across the room. It landed on a pile of previously emptied bottles, another nameless victim in the grim bottleyard.

_“Thank you. I know this was just a phrase you had to say, but it was nice to hear it.” The newly accepted said as the rest of the Companions were entering Jorrvaskir. It was shortly after her initiation ritual._

_“No problem. You’re…” he risked being blunt “… weird. But I’m glad to call you Sister.”_

_“Likewise. Though I doubt you’d want me to call you ‘Sister’ as well._

_“Just you try!” He laughed. “Now come on inside, this is my favorite part of the ceremony.” He risked again, putting his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shake it off._

_“A group orgy to keep morale up?” She asked, raising her brow and putting her hand over his. It was so small. Though those little fingers of hers were suspiciously nimble._

_“What? No! Where’d you get that idea?”_

_“Nowhere. I’m simply teasing you. I assume you’re simply going to try and get me drunk?”_

_“I vouched for you. It’s my damned duty to hold your hair while you puke!”_

_“How charming…”_

_\---_

_“By Ysmir! Talos or not, who cares? It’s not like it’s our problem who worships what dead God!” Vilkas ranted when the little one asked about the war._

_“I see…” she said, taking a sip of water. Though her tone didn’t suggest she agreed._

_“Do you have something to say to me, whelp?” Vlkas asked, turning his chair so they were sitting opposite to each other._

_“That depends on whether or not you want to listen… Brother.” She took the gauntlet._

_“Hit me.” He said through a grin and clenched teeth. He was in a mood for a dispute._

_“I shouldn’t be moved by your ignorance, given your narrow horizons…” She sighed, like a teacher not surprised the pupil stabbed themselves in the eye with a quill._

_“What now?!” He grunted, taking another huge gulp of mead._

_“Your perspective is limited. You see only the conflict between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, oblivious of the big picture. Your ignorance is justified by your innocence.”_

_“So enlighten me, little Sister! Go on, I’m sure you know more than I do!” He implored her in a mocking tone._

_“That I do, Sera. This conflict has little to do with the old Nord ways and the Empire. Banning the worship of Talos is the first step in the Aldmeri Dominion’s grand plan.”_

_“And what do they intend to do?” He faked concern._

_“Enslave Men.” She explained quietly. Her tone was calm, but it still bore some sad understanding._

_Vilkas laughed. Farkas knew that laugh well. He’s going to spin the conversation out of control into a fiery debate which will eventually end up in a fight. He had to think and act fast if he wanted to keep those two off their throats._

_“Think about it as if you were a complete bystander.” She proposed, making no note of his taunts. “The Thalmor defy that a man can be a God. Then they wait a while, a century let’s say, and trust me, that’s a very short period for them. In one hundred years, those who remember the Great War and the White Gold Concordat pass away. In that time their influences have with no doubt increased. They introduce another law. And so on, and so on. In between three and five centuries they can hypothetically seize control all over Tamriel, reducing Men to mere animals that somehow can speak and walk on their hind legs. Banning Talos has nothing to do with religion.” She bend forward, her alien eyes peered into his. “It’s them showing how inferior you are and how weak your race is. They don’t care who you pray to. They just want to show you your place.” Her tone bore no daring. She was merely foretelling a grave future._

_“This is insane.” Vilkas quietly said, laying back. “You’re a crazy little one.”_

_“I know this sounds too horrible to bear…”_

_“Are you calling me a coward?!” He snapped. Why, the arrogant little Elf dared to question his guts!_

_This was time to act. Farkas noticed Skjor listening in on the conversation. The half-blind warrior noticed his gaze and slowly nodded. They acted in perfect synch._

_“Have you heard?” Skjor asked Vilkas, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Aela claims to have shot an elk from one hundred yards!”_

_“Impossible!” Vilkas questioned, turning over. He immediately forgot about Caye._

_“No one ever told you that you shouldn’t talk about politics and religion with a drunk Nord? Come on, kid, you’re not drunk enough!” Farkas hovered over her with a fresh bottle._

_“I’m not drunk at all.”She politely explained._

_“Exactly. Come on, I have something you just have to try…” He checked if Vilkas was busy doing something else. He was; he and Aela were now in a fiery debate whether or not bowmen could call themselves true warriors. “Sorry about my brother. He’s not a bad sort, just short tempered.”_

_“I noticed that. Although, I did get provoked. I should have just let it slide and keep my opinions to myself.”_

_“Don’t worry about it. Come on, this is your party and I promised to get you drunk.”He proposed cheerfully._

_“I am a lady. Ladies do not get drunk.”_

She puked into the hearth, showed off how long she could walk on her hands with her eyes closed, and then fell over, toppling a kettle and pouring dirty wash water all over herself. The next day she found herself awake on the roof. He outdid himself. And that was when he started to like her.

After Aela and Skjor gave her the blood, she grew even more distant. She only showed up in Jorrvaskir to take a job and was off somewhere in the blink of an eye. It was obvious how strained lycanthropy made her. He wanted to talk to her, but she dismissed his concern.

_“Please.” She pleaded pained, when he got a hold of her as she was on the steps next to the statue of Talos. “I need to cope with this myself. Alone. I beg you, leave me be.” Her voice fell into a feral grunt. She fell silent, only those empty eyes stared at him, trying to pass some emotions through the jet black._

_“Your choice.” He sighed, allowing her to pass. She ran._

_\---_

_Then Kodak died. The only consolidation was that he met his end in battle, not from old age or disease. But Farkas never expected to feel this devastated. He and his brother were raised by the Harbinger._

_He was sitting on the floor, making sure no one disturbs the body. Nadja was with Kodlak as well, not sure what to do. Caye arrived just as the fight was over, and the body sterted to cool. She quietly let Vilkas work out his anger on her and then asked him to meet her at the gate in five minutes. She was carrying a large leather sack that was oozing some liquid strangely similar to blood. She left it in the Underforge, then came back into the main hall. She gave Ria a small potion to help Athis with his wounds and she was off. As she was about to exit, she turned around to look at Kodlak one last time. Her mask was off, she was in despair._

_“Have some decency to cover him up, for Gods’ sake!” She called, then rushed out. It was obvious she loved Kodlak, it was Whitemane who she spent most of her time with, next to Aela. Too bad she didn’t know him longer._

She was with them in the most difficult times. They lost Skjor and Kodlak, but somehow the Companions remained strong and true to Ysgramor’s legacy.

And now she was preoccupying his thoughts. Why? She was honorable, smart and loyal. But still she was cautious. He sensed that even if she was glad to be a Companion she still warded herself from her Shield Siblings. Maybe she needed more time? 

“Weird little thing…” He muttered into the distance. The second bottle was emptied. It hit the top of the glass burial mould in the basket. He didn’t want any more mead, his mood was brightened enough, he didn’t want to get too drunk. He scratched himself on the abdominals. Yeah… it was awhile since he gave himself a bit of attention.

There was a moan coming from the other side of the wall. His hand paused, halfway under his pants.

“Azura…!” He heard Caye’s voice call in carnal bliss. It seemed he wasn’t the only one feeling lonely tonight. Her voice was so different. Softer, somehow younger. And so damned arousing.

“Damn…” he muttered. His hand went lower.

\---

“Azura!” She cried, as her whole body tensed. After a few painfully intense seconds, she relaxed, still shaking a bit, but feeling a lot better. Yet, she was still puzzled about her own feelings.

Gods, she wasn’t feeling any more certain at all! Her dry palm slapped against her forehead. She was alone but somehow couldn’t help feeling embarrassed. What now? He was her friend, a reliable comrade, someone who… Who she felt comfortable around enough to let her guard down. Gods, that was it! She felt good around him. She could talk freely around him, not being weary of him using anything she’d say or do against her. Farkas made her feel… safe. Safe and comfortable.

She sat on the bed. She decided to follow Aela’s advice and casually wear the cursed amulet tomorrow. Just to test the water. Then, if he notices it, she’ll worry what to do next. Funny… she didn’t plan everything ahead. Just decided to go with the flow.


	2. the Naked Bard

It was late in the morning. And Caye seldom overslept. She quickly got up and prepared herself to face another busy day. She rinsed herself, got dressed, braided her hair and painted dark lines on her cheeks. All that was left was to put the Amulet of Mara on. She decided not to wear any other jewelry, as it might draw his… someone’s attention from it. But she still hesitated to put the copper and bronze trinket on.

“I’m an adult woman!” She scolded herself. “Oh, why do I feel like a silly maiden?”

With a defeated sigh she looked at herself in the mirror. The only new furnishing she bought into the Harbinger’s quarters was a large mirror she could entirely see herself in. A frivolous, vane purchase she just couldn’t pass up. Her face was looking uncertain. Unacceptable! She was trained to be a woman of action, not a whimpering weakling! She gave the mirror another look. Her little sharp face was now determined and focused. She took the amulet and pulled the little chain over her head. The three medallions, two smaller and one larger rested on her chest. Done.

But that wasn’t a face that could melt anyone’s heart. She scrutinized her own visage carefully. She wasn’t disfigured or repulsive, but so incredibly… sharp. And those eyes… She was neither ashamed nor proud of their unusual coloring. But now, when she actually wanted someone to look tenderly into them, and never mind how cliché that seemed, she felt stigmatized. 

The more she dwelled on her fears and insecurities the less she wanted to act, and that was out of the question. She left her quarters, marching straight through the hall in the living quarters. 

“Up so late?” She heard as she was passing the Twin’s quarters. Oh Gods that deep, hoarse voice with a soft undertone… She felt as if the Amulet suddenly became a noose. 

“It’s Sundas, after all. I think I can afford to sleep a bit longer.” Caye replied as carefree as she could. She wasn’t sure if acting relaxed around him was better than sticking to her groomed and proper façade, but she didn’t want to pretend when Farkas was near. She just realized how much she wanted to be honest with him. “Are you going somewhere?” She inquired noticing he was fully clad in his armor.

“Yeah, I just got a letter that Nadja’s in jail.” He sighed, still leaning against the wall. He tried his best not to give away any trace he heard her last night. And how incredibly excited her voice made him. 

“My word! Why?”

“I told her to straighten up this one guy in Solitude. She gave him the usual beating, but he hit his head against a rock as he fell to the ground, and… yeah…”

“Should I come with you?”

“No, no. I know the jailor in Solitude, I’ll try to work something out.” He said. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get her back in one piece. Though her pay is forfeit.”

“Of course.” Caye nodded.

“Well… If everything goes smoothly I should be back around Morndas evening, maybe Tirdas night. But you’re off somewhere, right?”

“No!” She denied more vigorously than she intended. “I plan to stay in Whiterun for a few days.” She explained, mentally re-scheduling all her plans. They could wait for awhile.

“Alright, then.” Farkas said, passing her in the hall. Was it just him, or was she wearing? “And…” He looked over his shoulder. Yes, it was that he thought it was. “It’s good to have you back for some longer, Harbinger.”

“Take care.” She bid him as a goodbye, trying hard not to scream. He saw it! And said nothing! But – a calm, logical voice in her head corrected – he was in a hurry, duty first. Just take it off and pretend you hadn’t left your quarters wearing it over your neck.

“Leave it!” Aela appeared out of nowhere, her palms grabbed the Dunmer from behind and pressed the amulet painfully firm to her chest. “Trust me, if you give up now, you’ll regret it later.”

“Maybe I should propose to you!” Caye sighed defeated.

“We can make a pact. If neither of us finds a mate in ten years we’ll marry each other, okay?”

“I hope you can cook, because I’m terrible at it.” Caye muttered. Aela laughed, patting her shoulders.

“Come, little one. We both need to eat to think clearly.”

\---

They dined in the main hall, making no mention of amulets, goddesses of love and matrimony. Aside from them, the only other Companions left in Jorrvaskir were Torvar and Vilkas. The first was sleeping off a bad hangover, the second was busy with studying a particularly interesting tome he found during one of his escapades.

“Are you ashamed of your own Sisters?” Aela shouted across the hall, throwing a piece of bread at him. Vilkas caught it before it hit his head. With an annoyed sigh, he put the book away on a nearby table and got off from the bench he was occupying. Slowly, he approached his Sisters.

“What is it you two want?” He asked displeased.

Ever since they met, he and Caye immediately disliked each other. She considered him a great intellectual potential wasted by a fiery temper. He viewed the Elf as too quiet to trust, and too all-knowing for her own good. In time, they grew to respect each other for their wits and combat skills. Their retaliation on the Silver Hand for Kodlak’s death bought them a bit closer, but they still got on each other’s nerves. Vilkas was too proud to ask her to help him cleanse himself. Thus, Caye had to ‘ask’ him to accompany her on her journey to Ysgramor’s Tomb and maybe cure himself as well. He accepted the offer and they walked out of the tomb free of lycanthropy. Today, they both truly respected and trusted each other, but still weren’t friends. However, they were on a slow, but steady path towards friendship.

“Maybe we simply miss your pleasant company?” Aela teased, patting the seat next to her. Vilkas joined them and reached for a piece of goat leg.

“What was in that book that made you so preoccupied?” Caye asked, finishing her salmon. Surprisingly, books were a topic they both enjoyed.

“Nothing noteworthy, trust me.” He dodged the question. Caye smiled, if Vilkas wouldn’t bother with being unpleasant, he’d just tell her to mind her own business. It seemed he also wanted to make up for their initial unpleasant relationship.

“Oh?” Aela cut in. “I’ll bet that if I open that book, I’ll see something about an Argonian maid written on the pages!”

“You do that and you can kiss that saber cat pelt I promised you goodbye.” He warned.

“Why so touchy?” Aela kept pressing his buttons. “Wait, regular or snow?”

“Snow.”

“Damn. Okay read your bawdy books.” The Huntress said pressing her palms together as a sign of truce. Caye had a strange feeling that the promised pelt bore more significance than just decoration. But it wasn’t any of her business. 

“Wait… Is that the…?” His observant eyes caught the embarrassing trinket. “You’re not married? Surprising.” 

“In over a century of my life I have yet to find the right person.” The Dunmer said humbly.

“So, you’re looking for someone to marry?” Her Brother asked further.

“Are you interested, dear Brother?” She suggested. The amulet might at least give her some crude fun.

“Ha! The only reason you’d marry me would be to kill me in my sleep, since you’d never manage to do that in fair combat!” He said with a laugh, reaching for his mead.

“Why go to extremes? I could always use poison.” Caye said harmlessly.

Vilkas choked on his drink, but managed to cough it up. Aela laughed, slamming her fist against his back. Caye said nothing, focusing on her plate with an innocent smile. It was so juvenile, but she liked to tease him. 

“Hagravens!” He yelled, springing up and rushing out to the training yard. He had enough of those two spiteful women, even if they were his Shield Sisters.

“Ah, that was fun.” Aela shuttered out, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “So, the Ice-Brain and you…”

“There is no him and I. And don’t call him an Ice-Brain.”

“You know, just that he didn’t notice right away doesn’t mean you can give up.”

“Mercy, what do you expect of me?” Caye put her cutlery away.

“If he doesn’t have the guts or brains, you’re going to have to take the reins.”

“You mean I should impose myself? I’m not that kind of person.”

“You do realize that being with someone means you have to give a portion of your pride away?”

“I know that damned too well.” Caye said bitterly, for a second remembering Ulva.

“And you should loosen up a bit. Listen.” Under the table the Huntress’ knee gently bumped against hers. “When Torvar wakes up and is in a decent enough shape, I want you to ask him about the Naked Bard.”

“I beg your pardon?” Caye wasn’t sure she heard right.

“Trust me.” Under the green war paint Aela was smiling like a child up to no good… in good faith. “Ask him to tell you that story. Then come find me.” She said as she got up to join Vilkas back in the training yard. Caye was left alone, save for Vignar wandering around his quarters. 

“The Naked Bard?” She repeated after Aela with a shrug.

\---

Late in the afternoon, Torvar woke up feeling a moldy swamp in his mouth. He feebly slid off his bed and on all fours crawled to the hall in the living quarters. One of the tables should have what he was looking for. Thank the Divines, the jug with soured milk was patiently waiting for him. He chugged it straight from the vessel, feeling the burning in his stomach slowly pass.

“No more. This time I mean it!” He swore as he rolled on his back on the stone floor and raised his clenched fist at the ceiling.

“My word Sera, are you alright?” The new Bosslady kneeled at his side. She somehow managed to appear out of nowhere.

“I’m fine. I just need a…”

“A potion of Cure Poison?” The Dunmer suggested, offering him a little bottle.

“Divines bless your kind heart!” He thanked her after quickly emptying the bottle. He got up on his feet with more confidence. “I got to get me some grub.” He suddenly announced, feeling a sucking in his gut.

“There’s fresh bread and pheasant soup, I’m sure it will do you good.” She said as she followed him up to the main hall. 

“Yeah, a quick nibble and then maybe a nap.” Torvar thought out loud. Why was she still following him? “Did you need something, Boss?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” Caye perfectly faked a sincere smile. Her training was deeply rooted in her psyche. “I decided to stay in Whiteun for a few days and relax.”

“Riiight…” he sat at the long table. She was still at his side. Damn, that soulless stare of hers sure was weird.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” She suddenly asked, looking away.

“What? No, no, I’m just still a bit hung over.”

“I see you were out again… You must have a lot of fascinating stories to share!” She said with a smile. Like most Elves, she had little round teeth.

“Do I!” Torvar felt encouraged.

“I bet they make the songs of the bards seem dull!” She encouraged further. Come on, take the bait!

“Yeah, have I ever told you the one about a sweetroll, a goat and Belethor? I was there, true story.”

She laughed, pushing a tankard of ale towards him. She wasn’t so bad after all.

“A little birdie told me you have some stories concerning bards…” she risked a frontal attack.

Torvar grinned, exposing a missing incisor. Probably a result of the many bars fights he got into. He wasn’t bulky but had a wiry strength. And a strong drink made him even more resilient than normal.

“The Naked Bard! That’s one of my personal favorites!” He exclaimed, quickly gulping the ale.

“Please, do share!” Caye leaned a bit forward, but not close enough. Damned, that man smelled like a brewery. Minus the honey. 

“My throat seems a bit dry…” he sighed, playing with the empty tankard. But he decided a drink could wait. He dipped a large slice of bread in his bowl and ate it whole, soup dripped from the corners of his mouth. He quickly wiped it with the back of his hand. Caye tried not to crinkle her nose. Such lack of manners. 

“Take your time” she said, knowing well that when you say ‘take your time’ the other person usually picks up pace.

“Yeah, the Naked Bard…” he leaned back in his chair. “I once knew this one graduate from the College in Solitude. Not a pain to look at, but nothing extraordinary. And yet, the bastard was swimming in mead and the affection of women. Wenches, maidens, matrons, townswomen, even priestesses… A great drinking buddy, by the way. Never left a broke soul down and always shared a drink. And stories.” He drifted away, picking his teeth with a knife. “I bumped into him in Markarth about a year ago. I had money and time to spare, so did he. We spent some time in the Silver Blood inn, they got the best dried beef by the way. I knew that I had a once in a lifetime opportunity to rat out the secret of his success. So I got him drunk like a swine.”

“I imagine that wasn’t as easy as it seemed?” Caye expressed interest.

“Yep, almost broke my liver. But it was worth it. Turns out he had a little trick called…” he paused waiting for her to finish the sentence.

“The Naked Bard?” She suggested, faking indecision. 

“Point for you, my friend!” He laughed. He took the bowl and drank straight from it. “Ah, that’s the stuff…! Where was I…? Oh, yeah, Markarth… Finally, after drinking what seemed a sea of mead, he confessed. He gave private sessions, you see, or just performed, never mind. Always one on one, he claimed that art needs intimacy to be truly appreciated.” Torvar grinned. “Art, right… His lute was probably the least fondled thing during those ‘sessions’. But anyway, he always greeted the dame butt naked. Only the lute covering his smalls!”

“And that worked?” The Dark Elf was now genuinely intrigued.

“From what he said it works two out of three times.” Torvar revealed in awe. “And they bedded him. I think that some felt pity, some were humored, and some got too distracted to thoroughly think it over. Shock tactics.”

“Amazing…” she sighed. When it dawned upon her why Aela told her to learn about that trick, she felt her cheeks getting hot. “And what happened to him?” She asked not flinching an eyelid.

“He’s dead.” Torvar sighed sadly. “He was to give a private ‘lesson’ to a girl from house Shatter-Shield in Windhelm. Turns out her daddy walked in instead. When he saw him he went into a rage fit. My friend ran for his life, still naked. He tried to get out of the window, but he slipped on the icy windowsill and fell. He broke his neck on the stone pavement beneath.”

“Tragic” Caye whispered. 

“Tragic” he agreed. “Here’s to the Naked Bard!” He said, raising a nearby glass. He took a sip and immediately spat it out on the floor.

“Sera?”

“Who in their right mind would pour plain water into my glass?!” He groaned. “Off so soon?” He asked, noticing she was about to leave.

“I’ve wasted enough of your time.” She excused herself politely. “But thank you for sharing that story with me. It was most amusing…” She turned to find Aela and slap her with a thunderbolt.

\---

The Huntress was nowhere to be found, which meant she was hiding in the Underforge.

“Please tell me you do not expect me to do something like that!” Caye said approaching her. Aela was praying to the Totems of Hircine. The Elf waited for her to finish her prayer.

“Why not?” Aela asked as she rose up and straightened her back. “It’s Farkas we’re talking about after all. You have to be blunt with him.”

“You expect me to pounce on him naked.” 

“Not naked” the Huntress corrected. “You’ll be wearing the amulet.”

“So vulgar…”

“So spontaneous.” She corrected again, pulling the Elf closer. She could lift her without much effort and toss like a rag doll if she wanted. Though she reckoned the little one was too agile to let her do that.

“Do you enjoy hurting me?” Caye bumped her forehead against the little amulets on Aela’s cleavage. She felt embarrassed and miserable.

“I want to help you, my little Sister.” Aela patiently explained. “I want to repay my debt to you.”

“What debt?” The Harbinger was confounded.

“Gallow’s Rock.” Aela said gravely, releasing her from her tight embrace. She needn’t say more. They both knew what happened there. Skjor died. “You didn’t try to comfort me. You did as you were told; you left at once and came back after the job I gave you was done. You didn’t say all those stupid things that were supposed to make me feel better. You didn’t touch the subject, allowing me to deal with it alone. As it should be. For that, I am grateful.”

“And now you want to help me in return, offering this… unusual advice?”

“Yes. I know you. I know him. You’re the strangest couple I can think of. But somehow… I can see you work. And that’s all I got to say to you. Don’t worry little one, no more ‘girl talk’ on my part.” She said.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just get to it.” Aela shook her head. “Now, I must take my leave of you. I have a job to do.” She said as she went towards the small corridor which served as a fast escape route.

“Good hunting.” Caye bid her.

Aela looked over her shoulder and grinned, exposing her impressive canines.

“Likewise.”

\---

“Aela not around?” Vilkas asked, as he approached her in the training yard. The Dunmer was looking out of the observation post in the stone wall.

“She left about an hour ago.” Caye answered briefly, staring into the east. Solitude was the other way.

“I see. Mind if I join you?” He asked cautiously.

“If you promise not to be a buffoon.” She stated one condition.

“Did she reject your proposal?” He asked, misinterpreting her fret.

“I’m sorry?”

“I noticed you’re close with her. I assumed… Well, on Skyrim we have a different approach towards marriage. Life’s harsh and you need someone to share those hardships with. It doesn’t matter if you bond with a he or a she, as long as the two of you face the world together.” He explained, looking away.

“Aela has all of my love. Sisterly love. And I don’t think I could fill the hole left after Skjor.”

“I’m not sure anyone could.” Vilkas rubbed his chin. “But it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She agreed. So, the proud and fiery Vilkas had a soft spot for strong women, did he?

“It’s not me, is it?” He inquired.

“I’m not interested in either of you, Aela is all yours.” Caye retorted.

“Fair enough. I like to know the situation. Now with that out of the way, would you fancy a friendly sparring?”

“It’s exactly what I need, dear Brother.” She said, her alien eyes narrowed.

“Come, little Sister, I think a good thrashing will cheer you up.”

\---

She lost. But she did make a few dents in his armor before he knocked her to the ground. In a much better mood she ate a late supper and went off to read before going early to bed. Nothing too sophisticated, perhaps the Black Arrow? She had piles of books lying around. Truth be told, there were various items piling up in the Harbinger’s study. She should either sell them to respectful appreciators or think about a storage place. There was a house for sale in Whiterun. Nice and comfy… Ah, but why bother with a house for just one person? Unless that’s going to change.

“Thank you Dinya…” Caye muttered, relieving herself off the troublesome amulet. She slammed it against the table’s surface. “The Naked Bard… nonsense!” She puffed. This was ridiculous!

_“Giving up so easily?”_ Asked a nagging little voice in her head.

“I don’t know!” She shouted, sinking her hands into her hair.

\---

Getting Nadja out of jail wasn’t that hard. He just had to have a couple of drinks with the jailor and a friendly brawl. It turned out that he victim had no family. Still, her pay served as a bail. And since it was an accident, the jailor agreed to release her first thing Morndas morning. Stonearm walked out of Solitude a free woman and first thing she did was to complain.

“Come on, how was I supposed to know what a whimp he was? Next time send me against someone tougher!”

“Uh-oh.” He grunted in response as they passed the stables.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Let’s keep going. We’ll be back in Whiterun somewhat around midnight if we keep up the pace.”

They travelled steadily for what seemed hours, until they felt too tired and hungry to walk any longer. They set up camp near Hjaal River. Farkas was obviously in no mood, as he was quieter and more gruff than usual. Nadja didn’t test his patience. He was the biggest softie in the Circle and he usually let most things slide, but he was one of those men that were like mountains. Solid and adamant, but once you somehow managed to anger him… You were lucky if you dug yourself out of the avalanche of his anger with broken bones, but alive.

“What are you doing?” She asked intrigued when she noticed him cuddling a small rabbit he caught.

“Calming it down.” He replied, gently caressing the critter’s fur, feeling the little heart beating frantic underneath his palms.

“Why? You’re going to eat it anyways.” Nadja took her helmet off and wiped her brow.

“If it’s scared the meat will go bad. And I don’t want to make it suffer.”

“It’s just a rabbit!” She stated the obvious.

“Exactly. What sort of an asshole you’d have to be to scare a little animal before eating it?” He replied, feeling the rabbit’s heartbeat slowing down. The animal was wriggling its little nose, frozen in his huge palms. “See, it’s calm now.” Farkas said quietly, quickly snapping the rabbit’s neck. The critter loosened up completely, its glossy eyes were tranquil as if it were still alive.

“I think I’ll stick to my duck” Nadja said slowly, plucking feathers from a drake she shot earlier. “You wouldn’t have any salt on you now, would you?”

“Nope. It’s a good thing it’s not raining and we don’t have to eat them raw.”

\---

Morndas passed slowly. Caye did some paperwork, loitered around town, visited a few people on business. She wasn’t feeling so lost and confused in a long while. The last time she felt like this was when Ulva died and she had to escape Cyrodill. Ulva… She wouldn’t like Farkas. No, her Mistress would never accept that her most treasured agent bonded and mated with a simple-minded warrior. And a former werewolf. 

Dusk approached. The merchants slowly cleared their stalls, the crazy prophet of Talos was gone as well. Her instincts told her it was high time to decide, not mull over the issue. She walked up the steps leading towards Dragonsreach. The Jarl’s palace was beautifully designed, but whoever built it was oblivious of agile thieves using the many pillars and arches to their advantage. She climbed up to the roof feeling the familiar rush invigorating her joints. She would never abandon her old ways, she would always remain the stealthy little Magpie at heart.

She sat at the top of the roof, weary of the small balcony leading from the Jarl’s private quarters. She visited the Jarl in his bedchamber about two months ago. Of course, Jarl Balgruuf had no idea she was there, as he was sound asleep as she stole one of Queen Barenziah’s stones from him. That was a fun heist, and a good exercise.

She watched the main road. They’d probably take the safer, quicker route leading from Solitude, Dragon’s Bridge and Rorikstead to finally reach Whiterun. The wind blew in her face, her robes flapped in the current. She waited. No more thinking, it got her nowhere. She was used to waiting for hours without moving an inch. Calmness and patience made a good thief. And assassin. Though she didn’t like killing, she accepted it as an indispensible tool to reach one’s goal. 

Her sharp elven eyesight caught two figures slowly walking down the road, passing the watchtower where she killed her first dragon. It was them, she’d recognize that stance anywhere. She felt ice in her gut. By the Gods, she’d choose battling a dragon any day to feeling this panic creeping up her throat. Pull yourself together! Time is running out, and retreat is not an option! Caye slid off the roof and climbed down the ornamented pillar. She sprinted down, almost tripping and falling into the small pool at the bottom of the stairs. Time to pull off the Naked Bard.

\---

Farkas didn’t have a lock on his door. Instead, there was a staple so that the room could be locked from the inside. She crept inside without making a sound. His room was plain. Somehow, she expected to see a mess. Perhaps it wasn’t the tidiest, but everything was in its place. The little elf took a moment to look around. She noticed a lute in the corner. The irony made her smile wearily. There were a few items on the shelf; a few dusty books, a horker tooth, leather strips and pieces of worn down armor. And lots of mead and things to nibble on. She noticed a small note on the counter, written in charcoal and kept in place by an almost empty jar of black war paint. His handwriting was simple, he wrote in capitals, not using any punctuation. The writing was smudged from left to right which suggested Farkas was left handed.

“Get pauldrons from Eorlund, stock up on leather strips, buy war paint” she read out loud.

Time was running out. She undid her belt, then stripped from her favorite green robes. She then removed her boots and gloves, leathery but definitely not made out of leather. They were metallic gray and though smooth in touch, somehow her boots made her stand firmly on even the iciest surface and her gloves made her firmly grip her weapon or anything she’d want to climb. Nocturnal’s little gifts. Reluctantly she slipped out of her practical, comfy cotton undergarments. She neatly folded her clothes and slid under the bed. She sat on its edge, suddenly realizing it was fit for one person not two. 

“I can’t recall the last time I felt so… unsure.” She said quietly, running her fingers along the amulet resting on her cleavage. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like she could patiently wait. She felt panic slowly creeping up her spine. 

\---

“How was playing Nadja’s nanny?” Vilkas asked as his brother sat heavily next to him at the long table. 

“Okay.” He said in a worn out tone. Nadja was a good fighter and Companion, but in a long shot her company was tiring.

“Did you at least give her a kick in the ass to whip her back into shape?” Vilkas asked raising his brow.

“Nah.” Farkas shook his head.

“You’re such a softie…” He sighed, offering him a bottle.

“Someone has to.” He replied indifferently. He drank everything in one gulp. 

The brothers ate in silence. Vilkas had a strange certainty something was troubling his brother. Farkas didn’t like to flap his tongue, but there were small signals he was giving away. Signals only a twin could pick up.

“Something’s on your mind.” Vilkas guessed.

“Mhm.” Farkas muttered, still focused on his food. 

“Don’t want to talk about it?”

“No. It’s nothing anyone needs to know.” He said, hanging his head lower.

“Okay.” Vilkas knew that if the thing bothering his brother was serious, he’ll tell him eventually. If not, then that matter wasn’t worth talking about. Farkas always needed time to think.

“I’m off to bed.” He suddenly announced. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

“So soon? It’s barely an hour to midnight.” Vilkas was surprised. His brother was famous for his fortitude and suddenly he looked so… weakly. Perhaps he was sick?

“I’m not feeling too good.”

“You do know that we’re not immune to diseases anymore?” Vilkas reminded. “If you feel worse in the morning you should go see Danica over at the temple.”

“Thanks, ma.” Farkas sighed with a sour face.

He wanted to be alone, to do some more thinking. That amulet Caye was wearing… Surprising she wasn’t married at her age, but then again Elves measure time differently. She was available, so maybe… Nah, she was smart and educated, she saw the world and knew a lot of people. He doubted he was her type. She should find someone as smart and fancy as she. Probably someone who knows magic and enjoys books and… all those other things she did back in Cyrodill, whatever they were.

As he was entering the living quarters, he realized he liked her more than just a Shield sister. No, he didn’t love her at this point. He never understood people ranting and raving about love. If it was such a strong and overwhelming feeling, then why did they marginalize it that much? He felt strong attachment, longing when she was away. When she was around he was surprisingly interested in a longer conversation, even if she still talked weird or seemed shut in. She was fun to have around. 

His room. He pushed the door open and kicked it shut behind him, not bothering with looking over his shoulder. He put his sword on the stand to the left, then undid his armor. Plain, practical steel. He remembered the fight he had with his brother when he asked why he didn’t wear wolf armor. Vilkas almost bit him when he said that he didn’t want to because wolf armor had a girly skirt. He was now wearing only his shirt and pants, ignoring the cold stone floor under his bare feet. He cleared his throat, still unaware that he wasn’t alone. He turned to the counter. Right, he had that list… he’ll get to it tomorrow morning. He had to get some shut-eye. Farkas turned around. Caye. Sitting on his bed. Naked, wearing only… Damn.

“Hi” she said quietly. She intended to say something more elaborate, but her mind was completely blank. She felt her heart pounding against her ribs, trying to escape. This was a bad idea. 

“Hi” Farkas said unsure what to do or say. She was sitting with her back painfully straight and her hands covering her bosom, knees and ankles pressed firmly against each other. She quickly got up, nervously rubbing her hands.

“I wanted to wear lingerie but I didn’t know what you liked. So… I hear this works two out of three times and… Well, I’m not sure what to do now.” She stared at her feet. How could she be this foolish? How could she act so selfish and put him in such an embarrassing situation?! He was still silent, scrutinizing her. She had no idea what to make of it.

He didn’t move or make a sound, still trying to gather his bearings. This situation was too… unlikely. He just couldn’t believe it was him she wanted. She never looked so lost and helpless. The look on her face was a mixture of panic and embarrassment. Her eyes… They weren’t eyes of a Frostbite Spider. They were the eyes of a rabbit, petrified by fear.

“I… um… I think I might have acted a bit too spontaneously. So, if you could just turn around, I’ll be gone the next second.” She shuttered nervously, pressing her hands to her chest. She was even slimmer than he imagined. She had a slender neck, her shoulders were narrow, her joints long, with small hands and feet. Her breasts were small but perky, with small dark nipples. Her waist was thin, her belly had a slight, adorable rounding. She had hips a bit wider than her shoulders. Her skin had a blue hue.

Farkas was still silent, staring at her with those inscrutable eyes. It dawned upon her that she never bothered to consider if he would want a woman of a different race. And was she too tiny for him? He could smother her with his bulk. Maybe he wanted a fair skinned, buxom Nord woman, not a tiny elf with a soulless stare. She had to get out of here! She needed air and space, the walls were closing in on her.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea why I did this. So, please, just forget this ever happened and…” She started to ramble, with every word growing more scared and embarrassed. He had to do something. He slowly walked towards her. Gods, she was so panicked. He never saw her like this. Was it because of him?

“… And I’d really appreciate it if you’d make no mention of this scene. So, just tell me to leave and promise you’ll forget, and…” His hands rested on her shoulders. Large, strong palms with rough skin used to wielding a sword. They were so gentle and warm.

“I…” she desperately tried not to make matters worse. Her glossy black eyes stared into his icy gray, no force could make either of them look away. “Say something. Anything.” She pleaded quietly.

He bend forward and gently bumped her forehead with his. His hands slid down her arms to her hips and pulled her closer.

“You talk too much. And you worry too much. Now shut your mouth, I want to kiss it.” He said softly, feeling her body relax.

The amulet sunk between them as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close as she could.


End file.
